"Piss off!" The scream ripped out of my throat. I wanted nothing more than to end him with a single, precise strike, to carve him open before he could enjoy another second of this.
Yet the twin axes in Sir Magnus's hands radiated a crushing pressure that forced my body backward no matter how hard I tried to advance. I could feel his overwhelming aura weighing down my every movement, as if the air itself had decided I was not allowed to step forward.
"Let's dance, vampire," he growled, his eyes burning with a violent, eager fire.
That look made my skin crawl. He was not trying to kill me. Not yet. He wanted to play, to push me into desperation, to watch me unravel piece by piece until I made the fatal mistake myself. Fighters like him were the most dangerous, because they were patient. They waited for fear to do the work for them.
The air vibrated as his axes slammed into the ground.
